BOLDFACE NAMES

By Joyce Wadler

Published: February 26, 2004

Now That's What We Call a Fan

PETER, PAUL and MARY had a party at Peter's -- that is to say PETER YARROW's -- apartment the other day. It's a duplex, off Central Park West. There are some hippie vestiges; the high ceiling is peeling badly, the coffee tables are wooden crates, but it's still an impressive address.

So despite the group's iconic status, there is one important question to be dealt with, before Mr. Yarrow, who bought the apartment in 1978, drags us single-mindedly into a one-way conversation on issues.

How much?

''$450,000,'' Mr. Yarrow says.

You're kidding! $450,000 in 1978? And you but a mere folk singer? JOE HILL must be turning over in his grave.

Mr. Yarrow, distracted by a grouping of pictures near the stairs, isn't really listening.

''Look over here,'' he's saying. ''There are the Weavers. That was to protect us against tear gas, this was Grant Park in Chicago. Here we are singing for the arts in front of the Lincoln Memorial.''

Peter, Paul and Mary, arguably the most successful folk group in America, have been performing since 1960. Some of their songs, like ''If I Had A Hammer,'' are so tied up with the civil rights movement it is difficult to hear them without seeing a black-and-white montage of demonstrations in your mind. Their new CD, ''In These Times,'' was released this week. On March 10, the group will be the subject of a PBS special.

And so, Tuesday night, they had a party. It was not a large gathering, but even so there seemed to be a lot of canes. MARY TRAVERS, who has had knee and back troubles, had one. She sat on a piano bench, dressed in black, heavier than she was when the group came on the scene, and she was the lanky blond singer with the thick bangs, but of course, she is now 67. Around the room were old friends; FRED HELLERMAN of The Weavers; the writer and muckraker JACK NEWFIELD; and of course her singing partners: Paul, whose full name is NOEL PAUL STOOKEY, now 66, a born-again Christian who is married and living in Connecticut and tends to do the jokes. Mr. Yarrow, 65, who has been campaigning with his friend, Senator JOHN KERRY.

Happen to see ''A Mighty Wind?'' we ask Ms. Travers.

As a matter of fact yes, said Ms. Travers, who speaks in a husky voice and has an easy sense of humor.

''I wasn't really, you know, jumping off my chair,'' she said dryly. ''Mostly because folk singers have never been known for having great senses of humor about themselves. I thought he let us off all too easy.''

For instance?

''Well,'' -- there's a pause. ''Some of us are a pompous lot. Some of us are a little out to lunch.''

Did she see anyone in the film who she thought resembled her?

''No, but I don't have a great sense of humor about me.''

Let's do a little 1960's gossip: In the book, ''Positively Fourth Street,'' BOB DYLAN comes off as not having treated JOAN BAEZ very well.

''Well, he's not exactly what I would call an American sweetheart,'' Ms. Travers says.

''Fame, she says, is a distorter.

High points of the life?

''To have sung for DR. KING. To have sung for JOHN FITZGERALD KENNEDY. The March on Washington. March on Selma. The Montgomery march. There were quite a few. To have sung for BISHOP TUTU when he had just won the Nobel Prize and protested apartheid from the South African embassy and got arrested. My mother, my younger daughter, Peter, his daughter, NOEL, we all got arrested together. I was of course able to say I had three generations in handcuffs, which I thought was very classy.''

Off we go with Mr. Yarrow, to his upstairs office. He wears round glasses, a deep red wide-wale corduroy jacket with wide-wale brown corduroy pants. He wants to talk about Operation Respect, an educational program he founded to eliminate ''the bullying and teasing and ridicule that is so much an affliction in our times'' in the schoolroom. Even the arrival of former Mayor DAVID DINKINS does not stop him. ''I'm up here making babies!'' he yells to an assistant, a sense of humor that might be ill advised on the campaign trail.

Finally, he goes downstairs, where he and Ms. Travers and Mr. Stookey pose with Mr. Dinkins, then sing him a song from the new CD.

''Have you been to jail for justice,'' they sing, ''I want to shake your hand! ''Cause sitting in and laying down are ways to take a stand.''

Mr. Yarrow, as he sings, rhythmically pokes his finger into Mr. Dinkins's chest. Mr. Dinkins's face reflects no emotion. You were jabbing him in the chest, pretty good, we tell Mr. Yarrow, when the song ends.

''And I'm old, too,'' Mr. Dinkins says.

Mr. Yarrow is not distracted. ''Now is the most dangerous time in which we have ever lived,'' he says, ''and if we do pull together and if we can disregard the kind of cynicism that surrounds us with all this, y'know ---- ''

Mr. Stookey jumps in. ''Tell him to dial up his intensity,'' he says.

Mr. Dinkins slips away. A little later, Peter, Paul and Mary go to the center of the room. Mary sits on a stool, her cane nearby, and they sing.